Flashback
by Rydd Rider
Summary: Basically, in depth what happened in the battle when Daniel saved Halt's life and directly after that. Rated for character death and violence. R&R if you will.
1. Promises

**Yay! First fanfic! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, or any of the characters in here. I don't even actually own this plot. It's Flanagan's.**

Halt sprinted toward the forest, whistling for Abelard again. But like the last seven times, the loyal little horse didn't come. Something had happened to him. Which was another complication he definitely didn't need right then.

Wargals were stomping around the battlefield, killing anyone in their sight, which was making Halt more grateful by the second that his mottled Ranger's cloak kept him out of it. Everyone, warriors, Rangers, and Barons, had thought this war ended a few days ago with the victory at Hackman Heath. This sudden, vicious counter-attack had caught them all by surprise, and this was the result. Dead bodies were strewn about seemingly carelessly, with many more sure to follow—Halt included, if he couldn't find Abelard and his saddlebags soon.

Halt held his longbow in his left hand, useless with its snapped bowstring. He had a spare in his saddlebags, but only if he could find the darn things first. His double-scabbard had been emptied to dispatch a pair of particularly nasty Wargals, and he'd even used his strikers to incapacitate another. He was now empty-handed, and the half-dozen arrows mocking his crippled bow from the quiver weren't improving his mood.

He heard a frantic whinny from only twenty meters away. Hearing it, Halt had no doubt it was his horse. So he'd heard the whistles—why hadn't he come?

Moments later, Halt burst through a screen of trees to see Abelard on the ground, attempting to stand up even though his right foreleg obviously wouldn't support his weight. The leg's angle was odd; it was most likely dislocated.

Halt shook his head at the injured horse. He held his hand out, palm down, and the Ranger horse obediently slumped to the ground. He strode forward and knelt down, tugging the saddlebags from his horse. The Ranger began riffling through them, searching with growing desperation for his bowstring. Not there. _Which pouch was it in?_ he thought, nearing panic. He moved on to the next one.

There was a deep grunt from above him. Halt froze. Abelard didn't _grunt_.

Halt threw himself backwards a fraction of a second before the Wargal's battleaxe thudded into the dirt where he'd been crouching just a moment before. The Ranger sprang to his feet, turningand sprinting back the way he'd come. As expected, the Wargal followed, stomping through the trees and undergrowth. Halt knew the odds were slim that he'd be able to lose the beast. They navigated by smell as much as they did sight. Maybe in the chaos of the battle, however…

He broke through the trees, back to the sight of blood and bodies on the dusty ground, the cries of pain, and the clang of weapons. Halt paused briefly, then continued running.

Another Wargal appeared before him, grunting and brandishing his spear. Halt skidded to a stop and turned sharply left. A third Wargal stepped up to greet him. The Ranger spun around swiftly, his eyes confirming what he'd suspected, and feared.

He was surrounded.

One of the Wargals took a step and swung his battleaxe in an overhead arc toward the defenseless Ranger. Halt dove to the side to avoid it and it sliced his left shoulder as another Wargal thrust his spear at him. He twisted to evade the attack, but not quite fast enough. The razor-sharp spearhead cut deeply into his calf, causing Halt to cry out. Blood seeped though his clothes onto the ground, muddying the dirt below He gritted his teeth and attempted to stand, but with the wound on his right leg, he collapsed immediately. Ugly grunts emitted from the circle of Wargals and Halt realized they were laughing.

A Wargal with a sword stepped forward, raising his weapon high for the final stroke. Halt almost closed his eyes. _No,_ he thought, keeping them determinedly open. _They might kill me, but I won't be defeated completely. _

Suddenly, a man burst through the circle, holding a spear tightly. Halt stared. There were ten Wargals around them, and yet the man barely looked afraid.

The Wargal holding the sword barely spared a glance for the intruder. One man dead or the other, he didn't care much which went first. Raising his blade a few more centimeters, he began the downward stroke.

Fast as a leopard, the man leaped forward and thrust his spear into the beast's chest. He yanked it out roughly and the Wargal crumpled. A Wargal swung his battleaxe in a deadly arc for the man, but he nimbly jumped aside and the axe only succeeded in taking off the head of his spear.

The man swapped his grip on the shaft, holding it like a quarterstaff. He jabbed it twice, left then right, and two Wargals staggered backwards out of the circle. Another of the brutes snarled and darted forward, smashing the spear shaft with a massive paw, them bringing the other around to rake the man's side with its claws. He grunted and fell back, grasping his side as crimson blood leaked through his fingers. He fell to his knees near the first Wargal he'd killed. The Wargal that had wounded him growled, closing in for the kill.

When it was only five feet away, the man suddenly leapt up and spun around, hacking at the approaching Wargal with its fallen comrade's sword. The blade bit deep into its neck and the Wargal went down. Quick as thought, he swung strongly twice more, bringing a Wargal to the ground each time.

He turned to face the remaining four and brought the sword to a defensive position, standing over Halt and protecting him. The Wargals stared, and one took a half step backwards. That did it. The beasts turned and ran, heedless to their need to finish every battle.

The man slowly sank to one knee beside the injured Ranger. Halt stared at him and tried to prop himself up on an elbow.

"Thank you, friend." It was all he could say.

"Daniel," the man corrected.

Halt nodded. "Thank you, Daniel." He glanced around at the beasts fallen from Daniel's hand. "You are quite the swordsman."

Daniel shook his head. "Spear man. I never trained with a sword."

Halt's eyebrows shot up. "But you just brought down half a dozen Wargals with one."

A smile flashed across his face. "Call it instinct, I suppose. Or dumb luck." The smile disappeared and a grimace of pain replaced it as he gingerly pressed his hand to the four parallel gashes in his side. Halt saw how bad the wound was and realized that Daniel was bleeding to death where he knelt.

"Your side," he said, "you need to get—"but Daniel shook his head.

"It's too late for me." It was true; the warrior's voice was already audibly weakening. He didn't have much time left. He looked at the Ranger with clear eyes. He knew what was coming and saw no future in denying it—or any future at all for himself.

Daniel suddenly grabbed Halt's arm with a vise-like grip. Halt suppressed a wince—it was the arm with the damaged shoulder. But the sudden desperation in the warrior's manner prevented him from saying anything. "Back at my farm, in the village of Redmont Castle, my wife…" he took a deep shuddering breath. His time was running out while he still had something to say. "She's alone… A baby due any day now… Please… I can't…" The plea went unfinished.

Halt nodded. "Very well. I'll see that she is looked after."

Relief flooded Daniel's eyes. "Thank you, Ranger…"

"No," the Ranger said softly. "Thank _you_."

Daniel closed his eyes and exhaled, then was still.

Halt took a moment to cast his gaze, laden with a terrible sadness, on the body of the man who had saved his life and paid with his own. "Thank you," he muttered again.

Slowly, trying not to put too much weight on either his injured shoulder or leg, he dragged himself back to the cover of the trees. Five minutes there, then fifteen back to Abelard. It was agonizingly slow, his wounds throbbing and bleeding all the way, but he made it at last. As he neared, Abelard whinnied a greeting, happy to see his master in one piece.

"Still," he hissed. Instantly, the Ranger horse silenced itself and froze. Halt decided Abelard had about as much cover as he was going to get, and proceeded to hide himself. He'd staunched the flow of blood from his leg and shoulder on the way here, so there was no crimson trail leading to him. That was good. He found a large bush within earshot of his horse and wedged himself under it, lying perfectly still with his gray-green cloak draped over him in case another Wargal should come near.

Minutes slowly dragged into hours. Halt reached the point where he didn't think he could move a muscle if he wanted to. Everything was cramped, his right leg thankfully numb and his left shoulder stiff as a board but still throbbing. He should get moving soon, the advantage of being unseen gone or not.

The general cacophony of war had finally finished, leaving only faint groans and hoarse pleas to pollute the air. Now was as good a time as any. Halt squirmed out from under the bush and attempted to hurry on straight to Abelard, but his protesting limbs forced him to take it slow. He spent several minutes stretching out his legs and arms, wincing as feeling returned to his thigh. Pain was something he felt he could do without.

The Ranger limped back over to his horse to examine the leg. Abelard let out an involuntary high-pitch whinny when his master tried to move the leg, but otherwise kept obediently still. It was definitely dislocated, but he doubted he could get it back in its socket by himself.

After stringing his bow, refilling his quiver, and throwing two quick bandages around his wounds, he considered about what to do with his horse. If he could find someone to help him yank it back into the socket, then Abelard would be able to walk again. Not at full speed, most likely, but perhaps at the speed of a normal horse.

Something snapped behind him.

Instantly nocking an arrow to the bowstring, he spun around clumsily; only to see Crowley glaring at the offending twig his horse had just trodden on. The Corps Commandant looked up again and grinned wryly.

"Looks like even Ranger horses aren't perfect, eh, Halt?"

Halt let a breath hiss out between his teeth as he relaxed the bowstring and replaced the arrow into his quiver. "Don't _do_ that, Crowley! One of these days I'm going to shoot before I think and the Corps is going to find themselves short a Commandant! You scared me half to death," he added.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Then I'm surprised you're not pushing up the daisies. That nasty gash on your leg seems to have bled you of the other half."

Halt glanced down. Sure enough, the bandage around his thigh was soaked crimson as the wound was bleeding once more. He glanced up at Crowley and saw the question in his eyes and answered it.

"A couple Wargals got too close. I was unarmed. I only just restrung my bow after the last string snapped."

Crowley nodded. He'd already noticed that the double scabbard was empty. Apparently the strikers were gone as well.

"You're lucky you got out of there."

Halt nodded in agreement, thinking about Daniel again. He shook the thoughts.

"Crowley, I need your help with Abelard. His leg is dislocated."

The Corps Commandant shifted his gaze to his peer's horse. "Yes, it certainly is." He moved towards Abelard and knelt beside him. Halt knelt as well, exhaling sharply as the pain in his leg hit him once more.

Halt put his whole weight on Abelard to hopefully keep the Ranger horse still. Crowley firmly grabbed the injured leg and yanked it back into its socket. The little horse kicked and let out shrill whinny of pain that changed to one of relief halfway through.

Patting his horse's flank, Halt looked up. "That was simple enough. I guess it's time to see if he can walk." He tried to stand, but his thigh thwarted him, cramping up and stopping his progress. Losing momentum, he fell back on his backside.

Crowley chuckled. "Or to see if _you_ can walk."

Halt gave him a glare that would have sent most men scurrying, or at least effectively swipe the smile off their faces. Not Crowley, however, to his annoyance. The man still had that infuriatingly amused grin on his face.

"It makes you wonder what the Ranger Corps has come to when their Commandant enjoys watching a crippled comrade struggle," he said peevishly, his brow furrowed.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You're hardly crippled, Halt. That little cut was just a Wargal's way of saying thank you." None the less, he extended a hand and helped him to his feet. Halt limped over in front of Abelard, whistling for him to stand. The little horse heaved himself up, much to the relief of his master. As he walked, however, he was still favoring his fight leg. Halt pursed his lips. They could probably still make it home, even though that would take a while. Abelard's leg would heal soon.

And then he remembered Daniel—and even more importantly, the promise he'd made to the dying warrior. The warrior that had been killed saving him. There was a debt to be paid, and unfortunately, Abelard was not currently up to the task of helping him complete it.

He thought for a moment, staring at the ground and ignoring the odd look Crowley was giving him. And then the obvious answer occurred to him.

He looked up at Crowley and asked, "Crowley, can I borrow your horse?"

This question obviously took the Commandant by surprise. He blinked and cocked his head to one side, his face adopting a perplexed expression.

"My horse?" he asked, looking as though he didn't think he had heard correctly. "I don't see what you need mine for. Yours is up and walking again, after all."

Halt was already shaking his head at the last comment. "Yes, he's up and walking, but he'll be too slow. I need to get to Redmont as soon as possible. Abelard's hardly up to that kind of travel with that leg," he pointed out.

Crowley sighed. "Is there any point in asking what needs your immediate attention all the way in Redmont?"

Halt considered. "I'll just say I'm repaying a debt."

"Oh, yes, and that clears it all up," Crowley responded sarcastically. "Which one, pray tell, are you planning on repaying this time?"

"I'll take that as an okay," Halt growled, limping forward and snatching the reigns. It would take nearly a week to reach Redmont even with a good horse; he had no time for unproductive banter. "Follow me on Abelard and we'll trade horses when we meet up," he added over his shoulder as he swung up into the saddle. He touched his heels to the horse's side, and it started off without hesitation. He thanked his lucky stars for the mission last year in Celtica—it had been dangerous enough to make it necessary for the two Rangers to exchange the code word for their horses.

Crowley watched silently as Halt rode off. When he was out of sight, Crowley turned to the horse.

"Looks like your master decided to haul off and leave us alone. What was that all about, anyway?" Abelard looked directly at him and gave a loud snort.

Crowley eyed the horse disapprovingly. "So you're not going to give me a straight answer either?"

The Ranger horse shook its mane. _Nope._

Crowley blinked. "All Rangers talk to their horses, right? Because you seem to have had an awful lot of practice."

Abelard just tossed his mane once more, remaining silent and leaving Crowley to wonder.

**Is it just me or was that really long? Well, that's not the end of it ^?^ Next chapter will have baby Will in it. If anyone likes the story... Well, do you? Review!**


	2. Not a Ranger

**Yes! I got five reviews! You can practically see my happy glow! Look! *Happy glow* ^?^ Special thanks to you guys, who I'd single out but I'm too lazy to look at who they were. ^^ You guys (or girls) still rock!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice. *tears***

Halt opened the door slowly, stepping back outside and closing it silently behind him with one hand. The other held a child.

It had taken five days, riding hard, to get to the village and another couple hours to find Daniel's farm. When he had gotten there, it had been too late. The mother was already dying as she gave birth and there had been no one to help but Halt. And he was a Ranger, not a mid-wife. There had been nothing he could do for her. The baby boy she had brought into the world, however, was a different story.

The Ranger limped through the village that was, even here, affected by the war. People streamed through the streets, heart-felt prayers rising up from throats in hope that death would spare their husbands, sons and fathers.

_It didn't spare this one's father_, Halt thought grimly.

Halt made his way back to the Ranger horse, not looking forward pleasantly to the ride that was bound to make his backside even more sore than it was already. Swinging into the saddle was made awkward by both his now-stiff leg and the bundle he carried with one arm concealed by his mottled Ranger's cloak. He looked down at the bundle now.

Two large, slightly unfocused brown eyes gazed back at him from over a small, button nose and little full lips. A wisp of brown hair sprouted from his mostly bald head, already showing the first signs of unmanageability. A tiny hand curled tightly around the material of the coarse cloth Halt had hastily wrapped him in.

His toothless mouth opened wide in a sudden yawn, squeezing his eyes shut. His lips closed once more and his eyelids parted, again revealing that chocolate gaze. Halt was struck by how similar the eyes were to that of the baby's father's, but without the pain of death and fear for his family. No, the child's eyes would never hold fear for family. He would never have one to fear for.

"Don't cry, okay?" the hardened Ranger said with a surprisingly soft and gentle tone. "We don't want anyone to think a Ranger is kidnapping a child, now would we?"

Halt's voice seemed to lull the baby. He smacked his lips once, then closed those big brown eyes to surrender to sleep.

The Ranger eased the horse into a gently trot, hoping the slow pace wouldn't cause the little boy to wake. The small, sure-footed mount wove its way between the trees toward Halt's cabin. But then Halt's brow furrowed. He wasn't taking this baby home.

As he rode through the forest, he considered. Finally, he shrugged. He'd take the child to Baron Arald. In the light of why the baby was an orphan, Halt had no doubt that the kind-hearted Baron would take him in as a ward. With that decision made, he redirected the horse to Redmont Castle. He'd be there in about twenty-five minutes. But before he could relax, another thought hit him.

What was the child's name?

Daniel hadn't told him; possibly because he hadn't had had time, possibly because he assumed that his wife would. But she hadn't had had time. After Halt had entered the humble home, she had only said, "Ranger, will—"but had then cut off with a gasp as the first spasms of pain hit. She hadn't said another audible word before she died. He should probably just leave the naming to the Baron, but for some reason he felt he owed it to Daniel to name the child himself.

He looked down at the little bundle in his arms. "What is the world coming to?" Halt whispered to the baby. His eyes blinked open from sleep, staring up again at the Ranger's face. "A jaded old Ranger like me naming an innocent child like you."

He considered naming him Daniel, but discarded the thought immediately. That would seem cheap, no matter how excellent his father had been. The baby deserved more thought than that. Unfortunately, Halt's thoughts refused to stay trained on names. They kept wandering back to the last moments in the life of Daniel and the warrior's wife.

"Thank you, Ranger…" "Ranger, will—"

And then it occurred to him. Why shouldn't a mother's last words hold the name of her son? Why shouldn't the last words name the last two standing in the room?

_"Ranger, will."_

_"Ranger, Will."_

Halt looked down once more at the baby. At Will.

"Will," he whispered. He seemed to respond, his chocolate brown eyes focusing on the moving lips of the Ranger for just a moment before once again wandering away. "Let your mother's dying words live on in you." He bent his head closer to the small, slightly pudgy face until he was only a few centimeters away. A tiny hand reached up and grabbed Halt's dark beard with a strong, tiny-fingered grip.

Something that could almost be called a smile touched the Ranger's lips as he gently unwound the miniscule fingers from his whiskers. It disappeared just as fast as he remembered.

This was the reason he had never wanted something like this. A family. A child. It made you care too much. And caring too much could be dangerous for a Ranger—it affected your judgement, made you act foolishly. It kept you human, yes, but as far as common folk were concerned, Rangers weren't. Here he was, barely having been with the child for an hour and a half, it not even being his own, and he already cared. He shook his head disgustedly. The sooner he got Will off his hands, the better.

* * *

Halt finally exited the castle, swung into the saddle of the waiting Ranger horse and rode off towards home empty handed. Not that he was very upset about the last part, he told himself. But the soft side of his heart didn't agree with him.

Will had started crying after Halt had handed him over to a maid to be taken to where the wards would stay. Baron Arald had watched with something shining in his eyes that bordered amusement.

"Looks like the baby's taken to you, Halt."

Halt glared and harrumphed.

After he'd explained, Baron Arald was, as he'd expected, more than happy to take the child in. There were no other wards as of yet, so there had been plenty of room. Will's fate decided, the Ranger had left hastily for home. Even now, the last words that had named the child haunted his ears.

"_Ranger, Will."_

And then it changed, ever so slightly.

"_Ranger Will."_

Ranger Will. It had a nice ring to it. Maybe when the boy was older, Halt would—

He shook his head firmly to disperse the wayward thoughts. It was very unlikely, anyway. Daniel had been a warrior. Odds were, his son would be too. And if Will were half the warrior his father was, it would nearly be a crime to deprive the battle school of the boy. He would grow up to be a warrior, a soldier, maybe even a knight.

Not a Ranger.

Halt completed the short journey to his cabin near the edge of the woods, trying to put the baby Will out of his mind. They belonged in very different worlds.

But sometimes, even Rangers are wrong.

* * *

Fifteen years later, Will read the paper, closely watched by the man who had written it.

_The boy Will has the potential to be trained as a Ranger._

_I will accept him as my apprentice._

Will would never know the doubts—or the care—that already rested at the heart of the grizzled old Ranger that would become his mentor, and the father he never had.

**Okay, I'm done now. Just a little two-shot I had an idea for. Endings are harder to write than I thought. It turned out okay though, right? You can thank my friend for editing that before I published it up here.**

**I'm actually already working on another, longer story already, but it's kinda slow. I'll try posting it soon anyway.**

**So, likey or no likey? I won't know unless you tell me! So… I don't really need to say it, do I? Review! I promise I will take suggestions into consideration as long as it's not 1) completely stupid 2) flaming.**

**-Rydd Rider**


	3. Incidentally

**Okay, I was going to be done with this story, but then I got these two amazing reviews with some really good ideas. Thank you, bando2 and ally4054. This chapter is dedicated to you guys. I was actually looking for an excuse to go on with this fic because I loved it so much, I just couldn't think of a reason, or a way to. So, this is the rest, and as long as you leave out the little "fifteen years later" paragraph thing in the last chapter this will wrap it up.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, although that would be the ultimate birthday present.**

Will didn't like that glint in Horace's eyes—not in the slightest. The already-burly ten-year old had dragged his smaller ward-mate out to the forest, claiming to have the ultimate dare. Now Will was about to learn what the dare was. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I dare you," Horace pronounced in what he thought was a regal voice, "to knock on the door of the Ranger's cabin."

Will gulped. Or he would have, if he had anything left to gulp; his mouth was suddenly very dry.

Horace saw the fear in the smaller boy's eyes. He laughed tauntingly. "What, you're not chicken, are you, Will?" He didn't respond. "Come on, I'm sure Alyss will think you're brave if you do it."

Will gave him an honestly perplexed look. "What has Alyss got to do with anything?"

Horace rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Will? It's kind of obvious. You're making eyes at her all the time."

Will glared. "I do not. She's just a friend, which is a whole lot more than I can say for you. Horace, you're a jerk. And stupid too. _Everyone_ knows you can't knock on the Ranger's door. If you want to get skewered by an arrow, go right on ahead. I'm not stopping you." A smile spread across Will's face. "In fact, if you're so brave, do it."

"Fine, I will," Horace pronounced defiantly. Despite the words, Will's eyes widened in surprise when Horace actually walked forward toward the Ranger's home. He rolled his eyes. He really was stupid if he thought he could get away with something like that.

Horace reached the door, and summoning his courage, he took the last step and banged on the door. It didn't open. _Nobody home,_ he thought with relief. But it didn't last long.

The arrow passed mere centimeters from his nose and he reeled backwards, trying to make sense of it. He looked to where the arrow had come from and found himself staring at Halt the Ranger. Halt was glaring back with cold eyes, a dangerous expression and another arrow already nocked to the string. He didn't say anything, but the unspoken message was clear all the same: _What are you doing around my house?_

Horace stood there, frozen to the porch boards, unable to move if he wanted to. _Nobody home,_ he thought again sarcastically. This wasn't turning out right. He stared fixedly at the arrowhead pointing to the ground at the moment, but from the rumors he'd heard he knew the Ranger could fire at him in the blink of an eye—and he wouldn't miss. He stepped back a half step, still concentrating on the cloaked figure before him. It broke what he had thought was a spell, and he turned and ran into the forest.

Halt watched him go, and then saw something out of the corner of his eye move. Another boy. He turned his head to glare at whoever it was. It turned out to be another of the wards; he may have to speak with Baron Arald about this. The boy stared back for a moment, then turned and disappeared into the trees.

* * *

Halt stood in the back of the kitchen, watching the boy as he stole Master Chubb's cakes. He was frowning. Halt, that is. Which, in itself was not all that unusual. But he frowning more than was common. This boy was getting on his nerves; not from stealing the cakes, as Halt could care less about that, but because his face… It was so familiar. But for the life of him, he couldn't place it.

The boy turned around one last time, making sure there was no one else there. He didn't see Halt, of course. No one did unless he wanted them to. But Halt could see him, and he blinked in surprise as he remembered where he'd seen the boy before.

This was the boy from outside his cabin—the one who had been hiding in the trees. But the second realization hit him harder, like someone threw a ton of bricks into his side.

This was Will. Daniel's son. The baby Halt had brought here thirteen years ago.

He frowned. He seemed a little… smaller than he'd expected. Perhaps he'd gotten it from his mother. Daniel had certainly not been that small, he'd been warrior size. This boy was, well, he didn't know what.

_Ranger size,_ a voice in the back of his head whispered. Halt banished it angrily. The boy would not be a Ranger. He'd said so thirteen years ago. _But that was thirteen years ago,_ the voice breathed again. _Today is thirteen years later._ He ground his teeth loudly. The boy, Will, paused and glanced up. Halt stopped and eventually the ward left.

Besides, he consoled himself, he can't become a Ranger. Dishonest thieves aren't acceptable in the Corps; we need people we can trust with our lives. Master Chubb can't even trust him with a sweet cake.

It didn't help his reasoning, or his mood for that matter, when the boy later confessed his crime to the Kitchens Master.

* * *

In the back of the room, Halt watched Choosing Day progress, watching as first the large boy, then the tall girl, then the shorter girl were chosen for their apprenticeships. Will was the only one left. As he stepped forward, Halt very nearly had second thoughts. Were past events influencing his judgement when he chose this boy? Or were past events influencing him now as he was thinking about changing his mind? He'd spent many a sleepless night thinking through this, but now he wasn't too sure about his decision.

Halt watched silently as the conversations unfolded. The desperation in the boy's eyes caused a lurch in the Ranger's gut as he remembered the similar look in his father's eyes as he forced the Ranger to promise to protect his wife and child. _I'm doing what I can, Daniel,_ he thought. But was he? The life of a Ranger was extraordinarily dangerous. But it was too late to back out now. He and the Baron had already arranged what would be done. The Baron would not appreciate it if Halt left him hanging.

"Is there any one of you who could use this boy?" Baron Arald asked.

The dreadful silence began and the desperation in the boy's eyes reached its peak. The silence pressed on Halt himself as he remembered the past as the boy looked to the craft masters for the answer that would never come from them.

"Ranger, will—"

The end of the sentence that would never come.

Halt could bear it no longer. He stepped forward fluidly from the shadows where he had concealed himself.

"There is something you should know about this boy, my lord." He handed the sheet of paper to Arald, as had been previously planned. The Baron spoke a few words, and Halt responded, continuing the mock conversation. He stepped back into the shadows, watching Will carefully. Seeing the way the ward's eyes were trained on the paper in such anxiety, worry, and desperation, Halt had no doubt of what he'd suspected.

The boy would go after the paper tonight.

* * *

The Ranger watched with something that bordered approval as the boy hauled himself over the windowsill. He had courage, sneaking into the Baron's office at midnight. On the other hand, the bait was too sweet to resist. Which is exactly how Halt had planned it.

He let him get a bit closer. Will was staring fixedly at the paper as he stepped toward it, not noticing Halt as the Ranger slowly moved toward same table where the message lay. The boy moved quietly, he was pleased to hear—or rather, not to hear. It seemed like some absurd, slow race, where the key was not speed but stealth and the prize was no ribbon or trophy, just a simple piece of paper. But the paper was not simple to Will, or to Halt, for that matter.

Will was getting closer, and finally he was close enough. He seemed to steel his nerves, then he reached out his hand. His fingers touched the note.

Halt shot his hand out and grabbed the boy by the wrist. The boy cried out, looking up at Halt with frightened eyes.

"Thought you might try something like this," Halt said softly. "Do you have anything to say?" The boy didn't reply. "Well, let's see what the Baron thinks about this."

Will jerked his head up, looking at Halt in alarm. "Please, Halt! Not…" Then he trailed off as he realized nothing could stop this. Or maybe he simply realized that he deserved what was coming. Well, he did, just not in the way the boy thought.

"What?" Halt replied curtly, testing him.

"Nothing," the miserable boy said quietly.

With a strong grip on Will's wrist, Halt led him up the staircase, past the guards, and into the Baron's living quarters. In the resulting discussion, Will showed once more that he had strong potential to be trained as a Ranger. Arald was enjoying this conversation, Halt could tell, the Baron had always been a dramatic kind of fellow. As he was pretending to discuss the punishments, he turned to the Ranger.

"Any suggestions, Halt?" he said, his eyes twinkling in humor.

"Perhaps we should show him the paper he was so keen to see, my lord," he said, keeping his face emotionless as he pulled the single sheet from where he'd stowed it in his sleeve.

The Baron grinned suddenly, seeming to surprise the boy, and made a joke about the note spelling out punishment in its own way. Halt was not amused, and pretended to think he was serious.

"Take a joke, Halt! Take a joke! Well, go on and show him the paper." The Baron was suddenly evidently excited about the whole thing.

Halt crossed the room, handing the boy the paper. He looked at it with nervous eyes, glancing up at the Baron and Halt in turn. Arald looked eager for him to open it, eager to see his reaction, but the Ranger concealed his own conflicting emotions in his roiling gut with his usual impassive face.

Fifteen years after the promise had been made to Daniel, the Ranger continued to keep it, bringing the boy to where he could truly belong. Will read the paper, closely watched by the man who had written it.

_The boy Will has the potential to be trained as a Ranger._

_I will accept him as my apprentice._

Will would never know of the sleepless nights over such a seemingly simple decision. He would never know of the binding core of the oath a Ranger made to a warrior so long ago. He would never know of the doubts—or the care—that already rested that night at the heart of the grizzled old Ranger that would become his mentor, and the father he never had.

**Oh my gosh, I'm about to cry! Those last few paragraphs were the hardest thing I've ever written. Too emotional… but hey, I'm a girl, what did you expect? Did it turn out okay? I especially want to hear from bando2 and ally4054. Did it measure up? Review please! I'm willing to make some changes if I think it would help the story, but I need some input and ideas. Review!**

**-Rydd Rider**


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